Take the time out to enjoy the little things in life, they say.
But what if those little things, the things you truly care about, turn into your worst nightmare?
That’s exactly what happened to Sam. Short for Sameer. My boyfriend.
He loved his life. Perfect girlfriend, perfect friends, perfect car and his perfect family. That’s all he ever really needed, and that’s all he ever really cared about.
He wasn’t a smart-ass, a douche. No, he was the guy you’d love bumping into on your walk to class at college, who’d make you laugh your guts out no matter how shitty it was going until then and manage to turn it around in a matter of seconds. That was his gift. The gift of gab.
So why did he, the most popular guy in his college, with the perfect life, suddenly decide to kill himself? That’s exactly what I wanted to find out. Needed to find out. Because without that closure, without knowing why he did what he did, why he threw everything away, I would never be able to move on.
I’m a realist. I loved Sam. But I know he’s gone, and there’s nothing I will ever be able to do that will bring him back. If he chose to leave me behind alone, he would’ve had his reasons. He loved me, and I know that.
I needed to move on, and that’s exactly why I’m sitting here in the dark in (what was) his bedroom, with the nightlight giving me just enough light to read his suicide note. Just enough light to watch the gleam shine off the edge of the knife I was holding in my hand. Just enough, while I pondered on how to go about what I was going to do next.
So why did he kill himself? Well, let me tell you in his own words:
I know you’re going to find this note sometime or the other. I know you’re going to sneak into my room once I’ve done I’m planning to do. Well, by the time you’re reading this it’ll be something I’ve already done. Wow, that’s heavy. It’s like I’m writing from beyond the grave, haha.
I can just picture you sitting on my bed reading this after having snuck into my room in the dead of night, knowing that you just HAVE to find out why. Why I left you. Well, I’m not going to stall any more. Here’s why.
I woke up a few weeks back and just couldn’t get myself out of bed. I couldn’t move my legs at all. I thought it was just my feet going numb because of a weird position I was sleeping in. So I waited a while, and sure enough the feeling returned to my legs. I got up and got through the rest of theday just like any other and completely forgot about it.
Until it happened again, 3 days later.
This time, I knew there was something wrong, because it took me half an hour just to be able to feel anything in my legs.
I didn’t wanna freak my parents out so I went to the doctor, and he gave me a couple of tablets. Thought it would be cool after that, but it didn’t get any better. In fact, it started getting so bad, my butt (haha, I know it sounds funny when I say it here) started getting sore too.
So I went to the doctor again and after a very…how should I put this…”intimate” check-up, he asked me to set up a secret video camera while sleeping at home.
He didn't say why, but told me to tell this to no one, especially not my family.
I thought it was going to be for some sleep therapist (do those even exist? You have weird ass specialists for everything nowadays, no?) to check up on. So I did it.
I set up a camera and recorded what I thought was going to be a regular, peaceful night of sleep for me. How wrong was I!
Anyway, I don’t think I can tell you everything here. You should watch the video I recorded. And then follow the instructions that are in the next page of this letter. But please, don’t read it until you’re done watching the video. It’ll spoil the fun. ;)
It’s on my laptop, in the folder named “For Your Eyes Only”. (Drama King I am, no?)
So that was the letter.
And then I watched the video.
I remembered his password, which was my full name (something I hate being called) and found the video in the folder, just like he’d said.
I cursed him for the password, opened the file and started watching the video.
He had turned the camera on, and gone to bed like he normally would’ve done. Curled up into a ball under his blanket, with just his head poking out as he always does.
Sam had edited the video, so it suddenly cut away to an hour later when Sam was fast asleep (snoring his ass off like he always does).
The door to his room opened slowly. And his dad entered his room, holding a cloth and a tiny bottle in his hand.
He stood there for a few seconds watching Sam, making sure he wasn’t awake.
He poured something out of the bottle into the cloth and walked carefully towards Sam, not making any noise at all. It was surprising he could be that quiet; when you’re 50 years old and weigh 105 kilos, stealth isn’t usually something you’re known for.
He covered Sam’s face with the cloth for about 15 seconds, and then took it off. He clearly knew how long it took for the (what I correctly guessed) chloroform to take effect.
He walked back to the door, a little quicker and not trying as hard to be quiet, shut the door and locked it from the inside. And then he took off his pants.
I giggled involuntarily. I’d never seen a man that fat, that naked before. Unless you count the time I caught the drunken neighbour next door peeing in our garden.
I shut up and continued watching, knowing but not knowing what exactly was going to happen next.
Sam’s dad got into his bed, threw away his blanket and then slowly pulled Sam’s pyjamas off him. He stroked his leg for a bit, then tugged Sam’s boxers below his knees, exposing his bare butt to him. To the camera. To me.
Sam’s dad already had a hard-on. He didn’t need to try to get aroused. He didn’t need to feel Sam’s testicles, or play with his dick to make him any more turned on than he already was.
And then I watched him fuck Sam.
The negligible amount of food I had for dinner, which was already halfway up by the time I had come to this part of the tape, finally seemed to have found its escape route through my mouth. I threw up on the bed I was sitting, all over the laptop on which I was watching my boyfriend get raped by his own father.
I didn’t need to watch anymore. I shut the laptop.
Now, I knew why Sam killed himself. Why he threw away his “perfect” life. Why he left me alone.
I picked up the letter, and turned the page over.
It only had seven words written on it:
“The knife’s under the bed.